Sunday, January 13, 2013

Fear and Loathing in the Hospital on Christmas

I thought I should catch you guys up on some of the things I did during my brief holiday hiatus. Enjoy! I will be back to the grind Tuesday. Until then ...

I would like to preface this entry by stating the following: I am an exceptionally good daughter. I've never been to jail. I was never 16 and pregnant or 17 and promiscuous. And anything that caught fire in my childhood home was purely accidental.

Having said all that.

On Christmas Day, while visiting my mother who at the time was hospitalized with pneumonia, I had a mild psychedelic experience after ingesting one of my brother's cannabis-laced brownies.

In other words, I totally tripped balls after eating a pot brownie my asshole brother gave me.

Okay I know it sounds bad. But in all fairness, it was an accident.

Let's start at the beginning.

My mom was admitted to the hospital the night before Christmas Eve. My family was worried and pretty bummed that she was going to be stuck in the hospital during Christmas, but we decided to make the best of a bad situation and all promised to spend the day at her bedside.

A quick aside: My mom is doing just fine. Turns-out smoking for 40-something years isn't good for you. But don't feel too bad for my sweet mother, considering the life her and my father have led, she's lucky she didn't contract whatever disease makes Pamela Anderson's face look like that. Let's just put it this way, Keith Richards wonders how my parents are still alive.

 But more about that another time.

Anyway, my fella and I met up at brother's house for breakfast before heading to the hospital. My brother noticing my obvious worry offered me a panacea.

"Just eat one," he said, signaling to a tupperware container in his fridge. "They're really good."

Another quick aside: One day, when weed is legalized, my brother will have a show on the Food Network dedicated to making delicious shit that will get you high.

I hesitated, because despite all of my talk, I'm reasonably clean-living. I don't drink a lot and most of the mind-altering substances I've encountered have been pretty low-key. Honestly, my biggest vice is a fudge brownie, which I'm pretty sure is the main reason I said yes to the bud-laced dessert in the first place.

"Fine," I said, popping the chocolate square in my mouth. It tasted slightly vegetive, like some mom with too much time on her hands had slipped some zucchini in it, but I didn't complain. A brownie is a brownie.

We made it to the hospital without me noticing any effects, so I assumed it was a dud.

Until about 30 minutes into our visit, when I forgot where I was.

I looked around nervously, to see if anyone had caught on that I was starting to question my whereabouts.

"Oh shit," I thought. "It's working."

And then I wondered how my phone got in my hand. And how long I had been there. And why my face was numb. And if I was literally having an out of body experience. And why there was a low buzzing in my ear.

It was after hours of feeling like this, or it could have been about 5 minutes, because that shit was fucking with my time recognition as well. I sent this text message to my boyfriend who was sitting next to me.

I thought my secret was safe.

Yep, that happened. 

Shortly after my admission, Matt and my brother headed to the cafeteria leaving me with only my dad and my mom. This is enough of a mindfuck normally, but considering I had begun counting my blinks, I had a feeling it was going to get weird.

My mom tried casually talking to me. I guess she didn't notice that I wasn't making any eye contact and that I was sitting cross-legged on the sleeper recliner with the hood of my jacket covering my face. 

I knew that if I was going to convince my mom that everything was normal, I had to have a plan. I had to start making small talk.

"How are you feeling?" I said, a little too loudly, after going over the sentence about 100 times in my head.

"I feel a lot better." she said. "Just ready to get out of here, baby."

"GOOD! GREAT! I'm glad."

I realized that my "don't act like you're freaking out" small-talk bit wasn't going too well. Especially since I sweating and kept releasing low moans.

I snuck away to the restroom to look in the mirror and see if I was giving any tell-tale signs. After staring at myself until my face didn't make sense, I composed this note on my phone.

Surprisingly accurate.

I emerged from the restroom after what felt like 3 hours ridden with guilt and just in time for my brother to come back.

"Allie!! How are you feeling?" 

Fuck. My secret was not safe. I hated Matt.

"I brought you some pudding," Matt said.

I take that back. I love Matt.

Me and my pudding.
Try not to masturbate to this picture.
"What's going on?" my mom asked.

"Oh, I gave Allie one of my brownies and she's high off of her ass."

My mom began laughing so hard a nurse had to check on her. The jig was up. I couldn't hide it anymore. 

"What did you put in those things?" I asked my brother.

"I thought I might have made them a little strong, but dad ate one and said he didn't feel anything."

"Yeah but he just stopped doing drugs like three weeks ago."

"That is true." my dad chimed in. 

"I'm really going to need you to stop talking, Dad."

He motioned eating a brownie and gave me a thumbs up.

"I'm really sorry, mom. I didn't mean for this to happen," I cried.

"Oh, baby, it's fine. You're really cute when you're stoned."

It was around this time I was reminded that my family is different. Not only was my sick mother not angry that I got out-of-my-skull high while she was in the hospital on Christmas.

She thought it was adorable.

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